


until the day you die

by Felikid



Category: Witch's Heart (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Growing Old Together, Immortality, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It's not that bad i just have feelings about Wilardo again, Post-Canon, References to Depression, my specialty brand of melancholic but not straight up angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24430981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felikid/pseuds/Felikid
Summary: Claire and Sirius grow old. Wilardo doesn't.
Relationships: Claire Elford & Sirius Gibson & Wilardo Adler
Comments: 16
Kudos: 76





	until the day you die

**Author's Note:**

> it's feels hours again lads. This is my second Witch's Heart fic and it is once again about Wilardo being vaguely depressed.

He sticks by their sides, after they get out of that mansion. Wilardo promised, after all. And besides, Ashe might still be out there. Claire and Sirius could use a meat shield.

The three of them move in together, in Claire's old house. And they settle into something strange that settles into something normal, slowly.

One day like any other, Claire teaches Sirius to make Salisbury steak. He fumbles with the pan, declaring insults with no bite, and Wilardo notes that a streak of gray runs through his purple hair.

Another day, they all sit in the living room together, preserving flowers or drawing or reading books in mutual silence. Wilardo glances up from his work, and Claire smiles as she draws. Her dimples do not fade once she stops; they must be her first wrinkles.

Bit by bit, Claire and Sirius grow older, frailer.

And Wilardo doesn't look a day over twenty.

The Witch's Heart burns in his pocket, where he always keeps it, some bad days. It whispers to him, _you could end it any day now, any moment could be your last. If you_ want _it to be._

For years on end he had wanted nothing more. Now, he dreads it.

He doesn't want to leave them.

He doesn't want _them_ to leave _him._

There is only so long a man can remain youthful until he garners suspicion.

"I know it is a private matter," says Sirius, the first of them to grow completely gray, "but I realize I never asked for all these years. Feel free to refuse, of course, but why did you seek the Witch's Heart?"

"Oh yeah!" adds Claire, bouncing in her seat. Age did not rob her of enthusiasm. "Why _did_ you?"

He thinks of how to reply. He thinks of Noel, his many eyes all crying, bleeding, handing him that cursed ruby with the last of his strength.

_A world where kindness is rewarded._

Why wasn't yours?

_Keep them safe, Wilardo._

It should've been me.

In the end, his words are short yet true. "I wanted to die."

They fall silent, at that. How does one reply to such an admission?

Claire twirls her hair, still short as ever, between her fingers until she asks, the softest he has heard her speak in months, "Do you still want to?"

He takes them both in, wrinkles and gray hair and all that. "No, I don't. Not yet."

After a silence, he adds the afterthought, "I've got to stick by you two."

He ends up feeling strange the following days. Thinking a lot. Not eating, drinking, or doing much of anything.

Should I tell them?

They must realize by now.

Wilardo Adler does not age. Wilardo Adler has smooth skin and the last remains of childish roundness clinging to his face. Wilardo Adler could put on a school uniform and no one would say anything about it. Wilardo Adler is the oldest person in any given room yet he will never look the part.

Claire enters his room to find him staring at the ceiling again. It's late at night, but she worries often. Many things can happen at night. People can die and you don't even notice.

She's carrying a plate stacked with biscuits. She puts it down on his bedside table. He turns his head to face her, nothing more.

"I don't die, Claire." Gravity shackles him to the soft covers, even his voice cannot rise. He is so very tired.

"Is that why you..." still look fresh out of school? Have no qualms putting yourself in harm's way? Wanted to die? Survived that one time you fell down the stairs and cracked your skull open?

"Yes."

Ever the sweet-tooth, she nibbles on one of the biscuits herself. Wilardo barely lifts his hand to grab one.

"How old are you?"

Too old.

"I don't know. Six hundred? I stopped counting. Stopped bothering."

"You've seen some things, huh?"

"I guess."

"So what was it like before functioning toilets?"

"Absolutely terrible, you people don't know how good you have it." Finally, he props himself up, stretches, and laughs.

How he loved them.

Claire smiles. Wilardo does in kind.

Claire never saw the use in growing up. She grew older, every human had to, but never saw any use in discarding childish wonder and fun. Wilardo never saw any use in keeping it. He does now.

"Want to have a sleepover? We can surprise Sirius, I'm sure he won't mind." Oh, he will mind, but it will be fun. They will be together.

He will cherish this time, these fleeting moments. He will cherish not being alone anymore.

He will be alone one day again. That day will likely be his last.

Many joyful years later, both of his friends die the very same night. They die in peace, of old age he will never reach.

The very next morning, their house is filled with dust.

**Author's Note:**

> They all live together post-canon you can't convince me otherwise.
> 
> Also thinking about them all growing old together is making me feel feelings which feels unfortunate so i hope this inspires feelings in whoever might read this. 
> 
> If you guessed this was written in under one hour in the middle of the night you are absolutely correct.


End file.
